Invective
by Maya Sushi
Summary: He ran until his lungs burst into flames, searing, burning fire. He ran until his heart beat its way out of his chest one painful inch at a time. He ran until he felt like he were bleeding to death from every pore and orifice. And then he ran faster.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: **_Don't own.

_**A/N: **_Sooooo, I was reading this the other day, to see if I should maybe write another chapter for it. And I was started writing planning on just another short chapter to explain some things, but then I ended up writing for practically four hours straight, so this has become a whole short chapter fiction now. Not that I need another one for me to slack off on, but it happened, you know. And then I decided when I was just rereading this first chapter that I can't continue it without rewriting this chapter. So, here is the edited version. It might gain a different title as it goes on, because I'm not sure about I Didn't Mean anymore. Not intriguing enough really.

_**I Didn't Mean (--- this is under debate :) )**_

_**Chapter One**_

"Al, you just... You just can't do stuff like that anymore okay?" Edward snapped at his brother. He had been running off lately, causing an unusual – for Alphonse – amount of mischief. And it wasn't making anything easier on Ed when he was always having to get Al out of trouble. He was angry, furious, and desperately hoped that this was just some sort of phase that the boy was going through.

Alphonse was positioned and ready with a retort and snap f his own before Edward had even finished speaking, "Brother, you can't control my life!" he couldn't either. He thought he could. No cats, no animals period, no doing that, no going there, not that Al, don't touch that, stop it Al. He really was tired of it. He could handle things by himself, he didn't need his brother hanging over his shoulder whispering warnings into his ear all day, "This was your fault anyway!"

"Of course it was my fault," Ed was angry, he would say anything to Alphonse right now if it was to argue. Give him a stop sign, he could take that on. "it's always my fault isn't it?" he felt reckless, he was fuming, and all he wanted was a good healthy argument. Somewhere in the back of his mind a little voice was telling him not to tread these waters. Not to toss blame. Because it will always come back to him. After all, it probably was his fault, it usually was his fault. Then again, bring out the stop sign, he wanted a good fight. "What about when it's your fault? God forbid we acknowledge the presence of those moments!"

"Yeah, you just g ahead and name one of those mythical moments!"

He's right, Edward knew this, it was always his fault. He would never dare to really blame Alphonse for anything, but he was angry, he was mad, he was seething, "The other day, when you transmuted your way out of headquarters for no reason at all and ran off. Then I had to stick around and fix it, and then find you!" he hadn't been mad at Al for that. Only concerned. Worried for the reason that he had even thought to run off without telling him where he was heading. It was a quick and easy fix, and no one really cared after the problem had been dealt with.

"Oh, yeah, that must have been so very hard on you," Al replied icily, with a uncharacteristic amount of sarcasm lacing his words, "if this was a competition, I would win."

"Sure, maybe," more like most definitely, actually, Edward knew this, "but you can't get off blaming me for every piece of shit situation that you cause!" yes he could. Edward was the one who got them into most of the situations anyway. His fault. So why was he denying it?

"Okay then brother," Al had never felt this mad. It felt weird in his soul, fiery and red and controlling.

"Yeah, go ahead Al, go on," don't. Please. Edward knew he couldn't win this fight. So why keep fighting? What was he so afraid of? Admitting he was wrong? Admitting it was his fault? He already knew it all was. Everything. So why keep fighting?

Red hot with anger, Al was overwhelmed, "Where should I begin?" he screamed, reaching brand new decimals of sound his voice had never before risked the climb to. His young innocent voice sounding strange and strangled, choked by his anger.

"Good god damn question Al," no, please don't begin. "I-"

"Shut up!" Al interrupted, having enough, "You have no right to blame me for any of this!"

Edward knew it was true. He immediately regretted all his previous words. He opened his mouth to agree, it was his fault, not Al's, never Al's. He was sorry.

Al continued on without letting him speak, "I told you it was a bad idea to try to bring mom back!"

"I didn't want to see her body desecrated and bloody before me!"

"I didn't want to kill her all over again!"

"I didn't choose to lose my body! I didn't take away my own life!"

"I didn't ask for this empty shell!"

"I didn't ask to become a part of the military, to leave behind my friends and family. I didn't want to lose Dad. I don't want to be in danger all the time!" he had his back turned toward his brother.

"It's not my fault, none of it. Not mom, or Winry, or Pinako, or Nina, or anyone, or anything." he whipped around suddenly with an accusing finger already extended, "It was yours!"

He stopped abruptly, immediately, as he made eye contact with the now silent boy in front of him. His words finally caught up with his brain and he gasped. He looked toward Edward with an apology lying in his soul for the next moment he could let it out, but the sight of his brother made him freeze up. Terror-stricken golden eyes looked up at him, wide and fearful. He as clenching his automail arm tightly with his flesh hand and shaking his head slowly. He suddenly looked small and fragile, frightened. His mouth moved with inaudible words, over and over again, the same unknown, silent, chant. A look of pure horror was pasted across his face. He looked so... Broken.

"Brother... I'm so- I didn't-"

Edward shook his head more viciously this time. He took a single step backwards and then shook his head once more.

"Ed... Bro-brother! I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

But Edward wasn't hearing him, he took another hesitant step backwards and with that next action...

He turned and ran.

"Brother!" Al called, panic in his voice, "Brother!"

Edward ran.

He ran until his lungs burst into flames, searing, burning fire. He ran until his heart beat its way out of his chest one painful inch at a time. He ran until he felt as if he were bleeding to death from every pore and orifice, as sweat rolled down his body in swift beads of moisture. He ran until he felt his metal limbs would become too heavy to even keep above the ground. He ran until his flesh, every single ounce of it, felt just as heavy. And then he ran faster.

He ran until he had to stop and fall to his knees and retch until his guts all lay on the street in piles of blood and bile. A twisted work of art against a gray cobblestone backdrop. He got up and ran again.

He ran until the burning sun scalded his pale skin and then ducked beneath the horizon. He ran until the stars came out to cool him down with dark caressing fingertips and sadly failed. He ran until all the acids in his stomach were pumping through his veins.

It was all his fault.

And then he ran harder.

Everything, and it always had been.

And then he ran faster.

And Alphonse knew. And Alphonse blamed him. And Alphonse hated him for it.

He ran and ran and ran.

It was all his fault.

And Edward ran.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own FMA and all rights go to the people who DO!

_**A/N: **_Okay, so if you read this an a oneshot and for some reason found your way back to it, then it is now official that I am making this a chapter story! If you haven't read the edited version of the first chapter, well, it's actually not really much different, so it won't really matter if you read the old one. But I had to change it to fit the rest of the story, which I have been writing a lot. So... Here goes

* * *

_**I Didn't Mean (any suggestions for a new title anyone?)**_

_**Chapter Two**_

And then he stopped running.

There was nothing else left to do. He'd been running for so long it seemed as if there were only two real actions his body was capable of right now. Run. Don't run. Run faster. Stop running.

And that was just it. Because one of these days he would have to stop running. Stop running from everything. Today was not that day. And he hated himself for that too.

At some point it had started to rain. He thought briefly that he might get a cold. Then he thought about how he was lying in the middle of an empty street panting and gasping and holding in the bile that threatened to rip at his throat. He didn't think a cold could make this situation any much worse really.

On top of everything else, Alphonse knew now. Well, perhaps he always had known, and hadn't wanted to say anything. No, thinking back logically, he had to assume that Alphonse always had wanted to say something, he just hadn't been pushed to the point where he would in the past. So he may not have meant for it to slip. But Edward was so glad that it had snuck out from his brother's mind. So glad. He smiled ruefully. At least he knew now.

He blames me. He hates me.

As it should be. It was all his fault. Every little bit of it. How dare he even try to pass off any blame onto Alphonse for anything at all. He had no right. Not when he was to blame and Alphonse was so innocent and sweet. Not when it was all his fault. Always.

To assume logically that his brother had always known this but had not confronted him about it poised another question. Why? Why had he said nothing? To spare his feelings? Surely not. Even sweet and innocent Alphonse would not spare his feelings, given the way he was clearly feeling himself. Why then?

Oh god.

Please no.

Please god, don't let the reason be fear.

If Alphonse had said nothing to him all this time. If he had said nothing to him, out of... Out of fear? Oh god, no. What could he be afraid of? Did Alphonse fear some sort of wrath? Did he expect some sort of violent response? A "you blame me so I'm going to take even more away from you" rebuttal? Did he think he would lash out? Be spiteful? Want some sort of vengeance? This is awful. This is horrid. This is terrible. Was Alphonse afraid of him?

Please, god, no.

But it was so easy to believe. Surely his most well reasoned theory so far. If he could find the strength to get up and run again, he was pretty sure that he would.

He shivered violently, suddenly well to aware of the freezing rain around him, of his chilled, trebling, sweating form. So a fever then? Oh joy, maybe he would die in the night. What a relief that would be. He wouldn't have to run anymore. He couldn't take anything else away from Alphonse, from the people he cared about. Alphonse wouldn't ever have to be afraid of him anymore. He had sworn to return his brother to normal, but if Alphonse hated him, blamed him, then he did not believe in him either. Why should he trust him anyway? After everything that he had done to him. He shouldn't. If Alphonse did not want his help, would not accept his attempt to make things right again, well then he had no real reason to live anyway. Let this fever ravish him tonight. Let it steal his last breath. If he was not helping Alphonse then each of these labored wasted breaths he pulled in were meaningless anyway. Let this dark, raining night take him.

He hoped it did.

Edward closed his eyes and felt sleep begin to come over him.

He thought he may have heard the softest of footsteps approaching from down the street, "Leave me be," he croaked out just in case, though he doubted anyone this far out would make any sort of attempt to help him, "Leave me."

!#$%^&*()

Al stood and looked plainly at his empty dorm room with a sense of shock. He had looked all over for his brother, checked headquarters and the train station and even the hospital when he couldn't find him on any of the nearby streets. So he had figured he would have gone home. By now he should be calmed down, poised on the couch and ready to apologize. Like usual. Except he wasn't. And Alphonse thought again that this was not like usual. Not like their usual fights.

Fights that usually ended in a furious Edward storming off, not a horrified, small, Edward backing away and sprinting desperately off without even a word. This was much different. Alphonse had said something that he did not mean. He was afraid that he had pushed too far.

Oh no, this was all his fault.

Edward had to be out there somewhere, belittling and blaming himself. Alphonse knew that Edward had blamed himself before, and now what had he done? All but served to make his thoughts of this so much worse. He had only emphasized to his brother that it was in fact his fault, rather than assure him it was not. And the latter, that is what he wished to say, needed to say. But their dorm was empty and his brother was nowhere to be found. Probably off somewhere doing who knows what. And that's what Alphonse was worried about the most. What would Edward do now? Where was he now? It was dark and raining and the middle of the night, and there had to be somewhere he was staying. He would have to go and check the hotels around where his brother had run off. Surely he had found a place to stay. Surely he wouldn't let himself be an idiot.

The problem was that sometimes he was an idiot. Alphonse set off to find the nearest hotel anyway.

It was all his fault. Always. Edward blamed himself for all of it but in reality Alphonse could have stopped it. At any moment he could have said no and he was sure that his brother would have stopped. Edward had tried to tell him that there was nothing he could have done because he wouldn't have listened, but Alphonse knew better. They fought sometimes, sure, but Edward had never really said no to anything he had asked. He did anything Alphonse wanted. And if he couldn't, he would be angry with himself because of it. No, it was all his fault. And now he had gone about accusing and blaming and making his brother his scapegoat. Just because he was a little bit angry? It was so unlike him. It was a mistake. What was he thinking? He hadn't been thinking.

Every receptionist at every desk he approached told him the same thing, different words. No Ed here.

Alphonse sat on the road and let the pitter-pattering of the rain against his armor calm his mind. He needed to think logically. He had been looking all day but he couldn't write this off as an "Edward will just come home" situation, because it was different, he knew it was, and he was worried. But Ed couldn't just disappear, he had to be somewhere. And he knew he wouldn't have a moment's peace until he found his brother and made this right again. He had to apologize. He had to find him. So he set out for the first place he could think of to find someone to help him. He would go to headquarters.

When Roy opened the door to the office Al just about died from relief. The man flicked his dark eyes over to the clock on the wall and then back up at Alphonse curiously. However, Al saw no surprise behind his eyes, "Alphonse," he stated plainly with a nod, "what are you doing here so late?"

Alphonse shook his head, "I'm just happy you're here this late."

Roy held up the coat in his hand, "I forgot this."

Al blessed his luck at catching the man, "Ed's missing," he said suddenly, and Roy blinked up at him for a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"We got into a fight earlier and he ran off and I can't find him anywhere."

Roy was quiet for a second, "What did you say to him?"

"What?" that wasn't the response that Al had been expecting from Roy.

"What did you say to him?" he paused as if contemplating his own question, "I mean, to make him run off. Ed isn't one to just run away from... you know what I mean, right?"

Alphonse looked at the man's disheveled dark hair and tired eyes for a moment before answering, "Yeah," he nodded, "I know what you mean."

"So?"

"I-," Al stuttered over the truth that was waiting in his mind to be uttered, "I'd rather not say right now." he steeled. Something Al couldn't recognize passed behind Roy's eyes, and Alphonse thought back to his answer. Why? He must be mistaken. Whatever he had seen was gone now. Roy was closing and locking the door now and motioned with his hand for Alphonse to walk with him.

"Maybe he just needs some time to himself," Roy offered, "if you fought I'm sure he'll be back to apologize." he almost sounded like he didn't believe it himself.

"No, this time was different. I don't think he'll just come back. I've been looking for him all day. I can't find him anywhere."

"Maybe he really does just need some time Alphonse, to think your fight over."

"But..."

"Tell you what Al," they were at the gate now, and Roy paused in his walk to nod at the night watch guards. Who saluted him respectfully with an accompanying "Sir,", waiting until he returned the salute to stand easy. "Give him a little while, if you still can't find him by tomorrow evening, I'll help you look. Until then, I'll keep my eyes open."

He walked down the sidewalk with a backhanded wave.

Alphonse sat on the curb with a sigh and glared angrily at the pavement before him. Roy was all together too calm about the situation. Didn't he get it? This time was different! Ed needed to be found! He couldn't just sit around and give him time, that wouldn't help anything!

"Oh and Al?"

Alphonse jumped at the sound of Roy's voice once more. The man had turned around and now stood far down the street, he had shouted back.

"What?" Al called in response, curious.

"If you decide you want to talk about what you said to him, it could help in more ways than you might think," he paused, "it'll make you feel better."

"Thank you," Al answered hesitantly. It had almost sounded as if Roy had meant something else entirely by those words. He was acting strange tonight. Maybe he was just stressed out.

He had to find his brother.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer: **_I here, and forever more, disclaim.

_**A/N: **_Sooooo, "Blame" maybe? Would that be a good title. I'm thinking that maybe I should find something more interesting. It just seems so mundane. I mean, I have Prosopopoeia, Eisotrophobia, Gnosiophobia, Hydro, and Blame? I suppose I Can Take This Pain is boring too, but I was thinking of actually making that some big word that means endurance or something. Maybe I'll think of a more interesting one. But, well, okay. Sorry this one is so short. I feel like I need to make longer chapters.

* * *

_**I Didn't Mean **_

_**Chapter Three**_

Roy pressed his key into the lock of his door and turned his brass handle when he heard the click of the lock. His talk with Alphonse had been brief and slightly uncomfortable. He was sure that he had not reacted to the news of Edward's disappearance accordingly, but he hoped that Alphonse would believe he was being professional about the situation. Surely he may have acted that way if he had not already known. No. He wouldn't have, he knew that. How would he have reacted though? Anger? Action? Possibly. He hoped that Al would take what he had said to heart. If he would tell him what he had said to Edward...

Tell him what he had said to Edward to leave him lying feverish, placid, and sick in the middle of an empty street on the outskirts of an old abandoned factory district where he had found him earlier this evening.

If he would tell him it might make this whole situation a lot easier to figure out, to make sense of. As of right now, he figured that he had done the right thing. He hoped, at least, that it was right to keep Edward's location a secret. Because he _did_ in fact believe that he needed time. Maybe a lot of time. Given the condition that he had been in when he had found him.

Roy padded into his apartment quietly, slipping off his boots in the doorway and setting his jacket on the table beside his door. His bare feet met the gray carpet of his floor as he made his way into his bedroom, where a head full of blonde hair was peeking out from beneath a thin blanket. There were two comforters lying on the floor beside the bed and the boy was shivering violently in his sleep beneath the scarce covering the the sheets he was wrapped in. Roy resisted the urge to cover the boy with more warmth, he was feverish and he might feel cold, but his body was burning up. Roy didn't know how long he had been lying out in that freezing rain, but he had found blood on his face and in his mouth and on his hands and hair. And it seemed as if he had been puking. He'd tried to get some liquids into him, but the boy was hardly lucid for more then a second at a time. He had woken up earlier long enough to flat out refuse the soup he had offered him, but then had called him by a name he did not know and could no longer recall so he had not been in his right mind even then. The boy most likely desperately needed to see a doctor, but he was worried about Alphonse discovering where he was. It was clear Edward probably did not want to be found.

He walked back into his kitchen and ran a small towel under the cold water of his faucet for a moment before returning with some ice wrapped in the now cold cloth. He pulled back the cover carefully and jumped when two golden eyes greeted him and dropped the towel onto the floor. Recovering from his shock he placed a hand on Edward's forehead before leaning down to gather the pieces of ice that were now scattered across the floor. Still warm. Maybe even more so than before.

"Roy?" the boy's whisper was almost inaudible it was so quietly uttered. Roy looked up, surprised again. Apparently Edward was here this time. He was quiet, in case the boy was in some memory due to his high fever. "Roy, why didn't you leave me? Did you not hear me? I said to leave me be!" his whisper had turned harsh and angry and Roy blinked slowly, taken aback.

"What?"

"What are you doing? Where am I? Why didn't you leave me there?" Edward was seething, fuming, raging, but he was also clod and shivering and felt terrible. He tried to sit up, to get away, maybe to run away again. He had to do something. But he couldn't. He was so _tired. _So _cold._ He felt his anger melt away and was left staring at his superior's startled face. Where was he? Why was Roy here? It was time to start thinking again, anger was a bad idea right now. Wait, Roy was speaking. He needed to listen, didn't he?

"...found you lying in the middle of a street in the rain with a fever Edward. Was I supposed to listen when you told me to leave you there?" Roy stated simply, it honestly wasn't much of a question. NO one would have left the boy there, he had only done what was right. What anyone else would have done. Not to mention he had immediately panicked at the sight of the boy. He would deny to anyone that he cared about what happened to Edward Elric, but he knew it was true. He had been ravished by worry from the moment he had found him, "you're at my house, I'm taking care of you, because you're sick."

Edward was quiet for a moment, so Roy moved to put the now fixed towel onto his forehead. He expected the boy to yell or hit him away, to tell him he didn't need his help. Any of these reactions that would make him the stubborn, headstrong individual that he was. He was surprised when there was no fight made against his actions. That was odd.

"Thank you."

Ed's whisper was so quiet that he wouldn't have heard if he had not leaned close to him to adjust the towel on his burning head.

"What?" Roy asked, genuinely startled by the statement. If he had been surprised at Edward's reaction to his actions he was even more surprised at his response.

"Thank you. For helping me," Edward frowned and his eyes refused to move in Roy's direction, "and I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to. I'm sorry for snapping at you too, no one would leave me in the middle of the road like that if they knew who I was. And I'm sorry I'm so much trouble all the time. You don't have to help me. I'll leave tomorrow. Sorry."

Roy opened his mouth as if to say something and then promptly shut it again. He glanced over the boy lying in his bed, sick and sad. He looked so young, looked so small and broken. It was hard to realize that it was only a child that lay in this bed. It was easy to forget that fact, to think of him as an adult, when he acted constantly as if he, in fact, _was_ and adult. He played the part well. But Roy reminded himself now that he was indeed young, and he had to handle so much. This was a side of Edward that he had not seen before, but he should have known that it was there. He couldn't be strong all the time. How hard it must be to simply keep up that facade on a regular basis. That itself must take it's toll on the boy.

"No," he finally responded, "don't be sorry, it's fine, and you're not to leave. You're much too sick. I think I'll actually need to call a doctor. You're not getting any cooler."

Edward almost physically cringed at the mention of a doctor, in any other situation he would have argued insistently against the need for a doctor, but this wasn't any other situation. He had to think about what he was doing. If he was sick then he would need a doctor, and he certainly felt sick. Far sicker then he could ever remember feeling. Maybe that wasn't the fever though.

Maybe that was because he had just lost everything.

Yes, he needed to think logically, because look what his crazy, rash impulses had done this time. They'd taken everything he had away from him. Taken his life away. Taken Alphonse away. And it was all his fault. He was so stupid to think for even a moment that Alphonse didn't blame him when clearly he was the one to blame. Alphonse was no idiot. He should have known he couldn't make things right. He couldn't do anything right.

Alphonse. Alphonse. "Alphonse!" he suddenly choked out, grabbing onto the hem of Roy's shirt at his waist, "you didn't tell Alphonse where I am did you? Please don't tell anyone!"

Roy looked down at Edward with a frown of his own, "Don't worry, no one knows you're here." he assured him. He looked so scared. So uncharacteristically scared. That it almost scared Roy.

"Thank you," Ed felt relieved and suddenly more tired then he had felt for a long time. He could feel his eyelids drifting shut and could do nothing to stop the darkness that rose up to meet him. "I'm sorry," he whispered with a small yawn, before falling into sleep again.

Roy watched Edward fall almost instantly into sleep, "You don't have to keep apologizing," he muttered, placing a hand on his forehead once more. If possible he was even warmer still. He glanced up at the clock, it was three in the morning. He would call a doctor to his house at six and say it was strictly military business. He would make them promise not to say anything, he would offer them a lot of money, and then they would fix Edward up. Then he could stop worrying so much and Edward could start acting normal again. At least, he wished it would go over that way, but he wasn't so sure it would be that simple. Actually, he was sure that it wouldn't be. He hoped that six would be early enough.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer: **_I DISCLAIM

_**A/N**: _How does "Invective" sound? I think it sounds pretty nice. Who wants to _tell me? _You? Okay, good. I love you now.

* * *

_**I Didn't Mean (soon to be Invective? Maybe?)**_

_**Chapter Four**_

The doctor that had answered his call was a kind, dark-haired woman named Lilia Scott. Roy may have taken the time to flirt with her if he wasn't so worried about Edward. He had attempted to sleep on the couch for a few hours but had woke to the boy's screams. He had found him on the floor, puking and sweating and absolutely on fire. Ed was going on and on about nothing, mumbling complicated formulas he couldn't even understand and screaming about horrible things he had never known. All the time apologizing over and over again. A mantra of "I'm sorry"'s in the middle of a bout of horrid knowledge no child should possess. Nor should it be possible for a child to possess. Roy had been frightened beyond belief, but when the boy had fallen back into a slightly calm slumber he had been almost curious as well. How was it that a boy his age knew so much? He had known Edward was a genus, but this was almost eerie. He had no idea how much the boy knew. Imagine what he could accomplish if he learned to put that knowledge to use! Imagine the attention Roy would get for rediscovering this child's genius!

He was horrible. Truly. The boy had just been screaming, crying, and retching and all he could think about was his next promotion.

He had called for a doctor immediately.

Lily, as she told him to call her, was in fact very concerned for the boy. She agreed immediately that she would not speak of this visit, and said that she just wanted to help.

"It's not my job to gossip," she had said when he stopped her on her way to his room, "it's my job to help that sick boy in there."

That had been good enough for Ry, and he had let her by. He could tell she was young, but she obviously knew what she was doing. She strode into the room with a sense of authority, and placed a firm hand on the boy's head with concern in her eyes. She looked up at him from her place kneeling beside the bed and took in the sight of him for a moment. "He's not your son is he?" she asked, and he almost nodded, but then shook his head quickly no, "Poor boy, I didn't think so. He has an extremely high fever and we have to get it to go down. How old is he?"

"Fifteen." Roy said.

"Go run a bath, make sure it's lukewarm. It can't be too cold. I have to take his temperature and try to get him awake and out of bed, okay?" she asked him with a commanding tone, and he fled to the bathroom almost immediately.

Lily looked down at the small, blonde form limp and sweating on the bed before her. She brought out a thermometer and got it positioned correctly into his mouth with only a small amount of difficulty. She could see that the boy and the Flame Alchemist were not related, he was so dark in his features and this boy was so light and golden in his, but she had hoped fervently for a moment that he was. She didn't want to think about another reason why a young child would be sick in a military official's home and have to be kept a secret. Where were his parents? Why was he here? A full minute had passed so Lily looked down at the reading on the thermometer. 105 degrees could kill a young boy his age. If his fever got any higher he surely wouldn't last. She felt a slight twinge of panic in the back of her mind. She couldn't let such a young child die on her.

She pulled the small blanket off of the boy and pulled him up quickly, hoping to wake him. It worked a bit and two small golden slits peeked up at her. She paused for a moment, startled by the honey color of his liquid hues, before gently placing her hands on either side of his face.

"Honey? Can you hear me? I need you to get up, okay?"

The two golden eyes widened slightly and he nodded a very small nod. Lily wasn't sure if he knew what was happening or not, but that was all she needed for now. She pulled him to the side of the bed and swung his legs around to the floor. He pushed up against her softly and helped her stand him up, and she was grateful for this small amount of cooperation.

Roy ran in from the bathroom and grabbed his other arm. He was a lot easier to move with his help.

"Really, really heavy for such a small boy," she thought out loud.

"Don't let him hear you call him small," Roy responded with a ghost of a smile.

Lily offered him a small smile in return as they made their way across the hall and int the bathroom where the boy's bath was waiting. She looked down at him and saw that he had most of what must be his normal, everyday clothes on: a black jacket, black shirt, and black leather pants. Only his feet were bare, and covered in socks. She frowned, he shouldn't be wearing these clothes. He's sick, and they felt a little damp, "Roy, leather pants? Are these wet? Why do you have him in these clothes?"

"I just found him last night,"

Lily frowned again, "What? Found? Do you know who this boy is? Why are you keeping him a secret? We need to find his parents."

"No," Roy clarified sternly, "I know who he is. I'm the closest thing he had to a guardian here in Central."

Lily shook her head, "We have to get these off," she said, matter of factually, motioning to his clothes. Roy nodded.

But, wait, his automail, "Wait, you have to promise less questions then." he said, grabbing lightly on her wrist when she reached for Ed's jacket.

"What are you talking about?"

"Just promise," Roy said quickly. There really was no time for this. They both knew that. Lily nodded, and Roy released her wrist. Lily nodded, and Roy released her wrist. Lily crouched down and went for the zipper of Edward's pants while Roy tore off his jacked and pulled his undershirt up over his head with a swift jerk. His automail shined in the bathroom light and Lily hadn't looked up yet. Somehow, Roy knew that she wouldn't keep her promise. The one about the questions at least.

"Where are his parents?"

There it was. Well, technically it wasn't about Edward's body, or rather, lack there of, but it was still a question. There was no time to fight about it. He folded up Ed's jacket and shirt and placed them in the corner of the room, "He doesn't have parents," he replied, coming back over and undoing the belt she was having trouble with.

Lily looked up with sad eyes to meet Roy's, and whatever she was about to say died on her tongue with that movement. A short intake of breath was the only sound she managed to make. Her eyes skimmed over his shoulder and down his arm, silver and glinting in the bright white of the bathroom. His arm? Was that a machine? What was it called again? Automail? Lily cursed her own experience, she had just moved from her small hometown very far away to seek out a job here and was only just learning about these things. But, this boy was so young. Why did he have no parents and no arm? That...

"No time, Lily," Roy muttered, and she shook her head to steel her thoughts. Roy found that she was shocked enough to not ask any further into it. What good luck he had. That, of course, was sarcasm.

Lily grabbed at the waist of the boy's pants and pulled down gently, a stark comparison to the way that Roy had unclothed the boy. She would have to express her disapproval to him later. She had his rather tight pants to the middle of his thighs when they snagged on something. What in the world? She tried to pull gently down again and met the same resistance as before. Roy's hands were suddenly next to hers, pulling roughly downward. The boy's pants ripped a little and Lily flinched. How dare he be so rough with him?

"Sorry," Roy offered, trying to step the boy out of the pants, "but it was gonna take a while to get those unstuck."

Lily gasped at the sudden realization that came with Roy's apology. Another automail limb stared back at her startled expression, cold and steely.

"In the bathtub Lily, fix him." Roy said, reminding her that she was here to make him better, not to stare at him.

Lily nodded and made a conscious effort to suppress her curiosity in accordance to his limbs. She stood and placed a hand on his fiery forehead. He had not gotten any cooler. She motioned for Roy to help her and placed a gentle hand on his thigh, lifting him slightly with Roy's assistance. The two moved the boy toward the water and lowered him gently into the lukewarm liquid. The boy's topaz eyes shot open abruptly and he gasped a deep rasping breath and turned his head in every direction, a painful shiver running through his entire body. His fever making the water seem icy cold. "Al?" he yelled out suddenly, his hands gripping onto the side of the bathtub with fear, "Al! No! Al!" he screamed out again, his grip was white knuckled and Lily noticed that he was causing the side of the bathtub to creak with the force of his prosthetic limb's grip. "Alphonse!" another violent shiver took over his body and didn't stop. Lily looked up at Roy, who looked more worried than she could have thought possible. She was half worried he would have a panic attack. This was common, fevers often set people into fits of hallucinations. And the shock of the water could send him straight out of his right mind given the height of his fever. She should talk to Roy, calm him down. As long as the by's fever dropped it would be okay, the only thing she was worried about was that strength of his. And if his fever didn't break... But that was something she would think about only if the situation arose. "Al! Don't take him away! NO!"

"Who's Alphonse?" Lily asked, concerned with the pained expression on the boy's face.

Roy sat down on the floor beside her, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. He had to settle down, if something happened and he was needed to help Lily then he needed to be calm. Ed's screams weren't helping though, "His little brother," he finally answered.

"He's my only brother! Don't take him away! Alphonse! No!" Ed screamed out, his trembling form raking the walls of the shower with clawed hands, reaching out for something unknown to them, "AL!"

"Is..." she was afraid to ask, "Is he dead too?" Lily finished, afraid of the answer.

"No. Almost though, but Edward saved him." Roy answered. It felt good to talk about Edward to someone right now, when he was so confused and didn't know what to do. He knew that he shouldn't say too much, but he felt as if he needed to talk to someone.

"Alphonse!" Ed called.

"Edward? His name suits him," Lily said, realizing it was the first she had heard of the boy's name, "so he saved his brother?"

"Mhmm..." Roy nodded, "it's not really my story to tell." Roy knew it wasn't, no matter how much he felt as if he needed to talk about it.

"Is that what he's talking about, you think? That moment?"

"Maybe."

"Where did you find him?" Lily asked, thinking back to before they had undressed Edward. Roy had said he had only found him last night and that was why he hadn't changed his clothes before this.

"In the middle of the road in the rain, unconscious and sick."

Lily gasped a little, watching as Edward visibly calmed. His body too cold to make such a desperate act as before, at least in his mind, "Give him back, give him back," he whispered, "give him back."

"The middle of the road?" she asked, "What was he doing there?" it might have been a stupid question, but she didn't care.

Roy was quiet for a few seconds, "I don't know," he finally whispered.

"You said that you were the closest thing to a guardian he has. Where's his little brother at?"

"They were fighting."

"They live with you then?"  
"No. They live together, the two of them."

"How old is Alphonse,"

"Fourteen."

"So, Edward takes care of his brother then?" Lily was concerned, such young boys deserved a family and a good life.

"Yes."

"Shouldn't you find them a family?"

"Edward made his choice, he's not a child anymore."

"What?" Lily asked, confused, and just a little bit angry.

Abrupt movement in Edward's direction caused them both to look over. The boy was screaming and crying for Alphonse still, and his fingers traced intricate patterns on the walls around him, on the floor of the porcelain tub, on his arms and chest and forehead.

"What's he doing?" Lily asked, watching his fingers move deftly to create invisible lines all around him.

"I think... Alchemy," Roy answered, not really making the poor doctor any less confused.

"Whether it's my legs or both my arms... I can even give you my heart, so please!" Edward said almost calmly, his eyes closing with some strange sense of finality, before he squeezed his lids shut tight against one another and cried out, "Give him back to me! He's my brother!" he growled the last words out through clenched teeth, his neck straining forward and his eyes screwed firmly shut still. A moment later he screamed, before words started rushing out of his mouth, quick and scrambled. He seemed in some eerie calm now, but his golden eyes were panicky and horrified, darting from right to left, listing off sequences of number, places, events that Roy and Lily didn't understand. In the midst of it all there were whispers of "Stop, please, stop, my head will explode, too much, not again, please, just give him back. Stop it, it's too much." Then came the words again, like an infinite list of lost knowledge pouring from the mouth of this vessel of a boy. Lily was speechless, staring at the young man uneasily. He had already expounded some of the things she had learned in medical school more far more in depth and in far more detail then she could ever hope to conceive. What was going on? Who was this boy? What was wrong? Roy could only listen close, trying to make out what the boy was saying as he started a list of ingredients and numbers and amounts, before moving onto an explanation of a battle that took place during the War in Ishbal, and then some sort of roster of soldiers involved in something, and listing the number of rooms in the original blueprint for the Eastern Headquarters. Here it was again, the boy was in a state of ineffable and inconceivable possession of knowledge. Genius. The fever taking over the function of his mouth and exposing his complex, rushed thought to the world. The poor boy. He seemed so horrified. How did he know what he did? How did this happen?

Then he was crying lightly, holding his automail arm tightly with his flesh hand, "Al, I'm sorry, it was all I could get, I'm sorry."

A gasp, clear and sharp, pierced the veil of their thoughts as the boy took a long shaking breath of air into his lungs. Then he was quiet.

Lily leaned over the side of the tub, "Sweetie? Are you here? Are you here with us?"

Edward's golden eyes assessed the woman before him, suddenly calm and calculating, "Who are you? And why do I feel like shit?" he finally let out with a snarl, "And where the hell are my clothes?"

Roy just about broke his own cheeks from the relieved smile that came with his words. Here was Edward, this was Edward.

Lily frowned and leaned closer, placing her hand on his forehead. He was cooler, his fever was breaking, "I," she began, "am a doctor. My name is Lilia. And you, are sick, Edward. And your clothes," she pointed to the corner, "are over there."

Edward shivered, "I want out of here, it's so cold."

"Your bodies on fire, honey," she answered, "you're not really cold. We need to cool you down, okay?"

"Hell no."

"Shut up," Lily ordered, "I am here to help you and I will whether you like it or not," Roy raised an eyebrow in her direction, clearly impressed.

Edward gazed at the kind looking woman in front of him and suddenly felt horrible about the way he had just spoken to her. Even though it was hard to think when he was so cold, so cold, so cold, she was only trying to help him. Even if he didn't deserve it. And here he was yelling and angry and taking. Equivalent exchange, but what had he ever done for them to help him? Nothing. So he owed her now, very likely his life, which might not be worth much, but her effort was worth more, her care. And had she just called him honey?

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "you're trying to help and I'm yelling and being awful. Thank you. I ow you now, anything you want, anything, I'm sorry." he forced out through shaking teeth and a quivering jaw. He needed to apologize, needed her to forgive him. He didn't know why he felt so strongly this way, but he couldn't help himself. He needed this, "forgive me," it was almost a plea.

Roy frowned, and the Edward he knew was gone.

Lily's anger evaporated immediately, "You poor boy! Of course I forgive you! You're sick and hardly lucid and freezing. You're allowed to snap!" she leaned forward and hugged the quivering boy with warm arms. An impulse she refused to ignore. The shaking form beneath her responded with one hesitant flesh arm and a blonde head pressed tightly to her neck. The boy started to sob uncontrollably. She didn't know what to do, but her instincts took over. Her maternal sense told her to hold him tighter, to keep holding on. Even though her dress was soaking up cold water and she was beginning to feel cold as well. He cried loud and solidly against her, soaking the top of her dress as well as the bottom, but in this moment she didn't care. This poor boy. What was so wrong? What a poor, sweet boy. She wanted to help him. She wanted to make it better. She wanted to make him better.

He fell asleep in her arms, leaning against a strange woman in a bathtub filled with lukewarm water and invisible lines.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer: **_No, I do not own FMA. Or Edward. Or Alphonse. Or Roy. Or, wait, I do own Doctor Lilia Scott. Too bad my characters not as cool as the other three :P. Haha.

_**A/N:**_ Okay. I don't know why I felt the need to put an author's note here, I have nothing to say. Go!

* * *

_**Invective**_

_**Chapter Five**_

Ed woke up in the same strange bed he had woken in when he had first seen Roy. He felt a lot better, and he was warm. Really warm. He pulled the cover that was over him harshly to the side, finding himself in strange clothes. A solid black tee shirt and a pair of boxer shorts that were not his own sat upon his being. He remembered being in a bathtub, seeing a woman who was very kind to him. He had snapped at her and apologized only moments later, desperate for her forgiveness. Why was that? She had said that it was okay and he hadn't been able to stand it anymore, he had leaned forward and cried into her warm embrace. He had cried and cried and cried and that was all that he could remember. That woman! Oh no, he shouldn't have done that. That woman didn't need to be burdened by him like that. Imagine what must have been going through her head! He had just apologized to her but had immediately gone and ruined it. What right did he have to take empathy from her like that?

"Edward, honey, are you awake?" a woman's soft voice called from the doorway. A woman. That woman. There was a tray in her hand.

"Yes," he answered hesitantly, unsure if he really wanted to speak with her. But he needed to apologize again. She didn't need to take care of him and he went and made it even harder on her.

"My name's Lilia, okay? I brought you some soup, you'd better eat it." she cooed, meandering over to the bed. Had she called him honey before? What had he done to deserve that?

"You don't have to be so kind, you know," Edward responded. He wouldn't refuse the food she had offered him, that would just be rude, "I haven't done anything to repay you yet, I'll have to think of something. You've been much too kind to me. I'm sorry about everything, about before."

Lilia looked taken aback, "You don't have to repay me. This is my job, I'm here to make you better."

"Still," Ed insisted, "and anyway, helping me when I'm sick doesn't involve soup in bed and holding me while I sob like a whiny little bitch," he creaked out, sounding nervous and anxious. He needed her to understand. He had to repay her. He had to. Equivalent exchange.

She frowned, "Do you need anything else? It's fine, really, okay?"

"Could you get someone to send a letter for me?"

* * *

Alphonse was a mess. If he could have physically appeared a mess, he was sure he would have. As it was his mind was going haywire. Edward had been missing still and apparently Roy had decided to take the day off of work. It was unfair! He had told him that if Edward was still missing tonight he would start looking for him. Something was wrong, he knew it. He had given ed enough time. If he was coming back then he should have been back by now. There was no explanation for it, there was no reason, there was no Ed. And it was his fault. If something had happened to his brother he would never forgive himself. He was awful. He had driven Edward away.

He had to find him. And soon.

Alphonse set out in search of Mustang that evening. He had to find him first. Roy could help, he knew that he could. He found Hawkeye in Roy's office with a stack of his paperwork and a hand well practiced in the art of forging the man's signature. He asked her if she knew why Roy had taken the day off, and was only given a sharp shake of her head in reply. If she knew, maybe she wouldn't have told him anyway. He would never be able to tell. Riza was an empty slate, so skilled at hiding every fleeting emotion when the need be. She did, however, give him Roy's address and told him to go look for the man himself if he really wanted answers. He planned to do so.

Roy's doorstep found him knocking hard against a dark mahogany wood door. He felt irritated and impatient and anxious, none of these feeling befitting of him. The door opened moments later and Alphonse found himself staring into an unfamiliar pair or chocolate brown eyes. A woman with dark auburn hair and tan skin had opened the door. She was pretty, wearing a white sundress and a surprised look upon her face. Al was startled, and then angry. How dare Mustang blow him off for some girl! Granted, he had thought Roy had a thing for fair skinned fair haired ladies, but that was quite beside the point. Roy had taken the day off to spend with some girlfriend of his but couldn't find the time to help him look for his brother. He thought back to all the times that Edward had said bad things about the Colonel and he had defended him. He now officially took that all back. If only life was that simple, though, if only Al could just take it back. All of it. Take back the things he had said to his brother. Take back the mean thoughts he had harbored for this kind looking woman in the doorway, she hadn't done anything. Take back the things that he had said to Edward.

"Yes?" she asked, her accent was slightly strange, she must have moved to Central recently. He wondered where she was from. Maybe she was from somewhere outside of Amestris.

"Um... Yeah, in Roy Mustang here? This is his house, right?" he asked, his voice tumbling out young and sweet from his cold exterior.

At the sound of his voice, the woman visibly relaxed, "Yes he is, may I ask who you are?" she asked with a small smile.

"Oh, yes, I'm Alphonse Elric. Can you tell him that it's about my brother?" he hoped he didn't seem too irritated. He didn't want to come across as impolite.

A flicker of recognition passed behind the woman's eyes and she opened and closed her mouth as if unsure as to what she was going to say. She pursed her lips and gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment before offering out her hand, "Oh, Alphonse, of course. Roy's told me about you. I'm Doctor Lilia Scott... Roy's actually... uh... sick right now. So I'm not sure if it's such a good idea if you go in to see him." she was acting a little hesitant and strange. But it did make sense that she was not one of Roy's flings. Good thing too, she seemed pretty and nice. He wasn't, however, about to write off her particularly odd reaction to his introduction.

"I'm afraid this is really important Miss Scott, I really need to see him." Al called out, attempting to peer into the small apartment. Maybe project his voice to wherever Mustang was at.

"He's sleeping right now."

"This can't wait,"

"He's contagious."

"I'll live,"

"He doesn't want visitors, I'll be yelled at!"

"Are you trying to keep me out?"

"No, no," Lilia assured, "I'm sorry, it's just that I'm trying to keep Roy in. You know how he is."

"I _do_ know how he is," Alphonse said, "and I also need to see him right now and I'm not leaving until I do." he demanded icily, surprised at himself. He really hoped that she wouldn't take it too badly, he was usually so nice, it felt wrong to be so stern with such an obviously respectable lady. But this was Ed, and he had to see Roy.

"Hold on," Lily said quickly, closing the door on the boy with a quiet curse on her lips, "Shit," she muttered. "Roy! Roy!" her whisper came with fast air and stressed syllables, "Roy! Problem."

Roy's head came peeking around the corner of his bedroom doorway where he had been watching adamently over Edward. He had told Lily she could leave because his fever was rapidly dropping, but she had kindly refused. She needed to watch him for a while longer, to make sure he would be okay. Plus, she felt oddly protective over this boy, and found herself genuinely concerned over him. How, in such a short period of time, this golden, feverish boy had crawled into and under her veil of care she was unsure of. But she felt as if he would need her help. She already felt as if he needed her help. Roy's dark obsidian eyes scanned readily across the room in one analyzing sweep and then fell upon her, inquisitioning, "What is it Lily?"

"Alphonse is outside, asking to see you!"

"Tell him I can't... Tell him... I'm sick."

"Tried that, he says he's not leaving."

"Shit," Roy said finally, and Lily nodded.

"That's exactly what I said,"

"What do I do?" Roy asked.

"Well," she started, "you certainly look run down enough Roy," she stated, walking up to him and placing a gentle hand on his cheek. She noticed the way his wide eyes were bloodshot and eyelids drooping slightly. When was the last time he slept? There were bags forming under his eyes and he looked awful, "you okay?"

Roy looked down into her hazel eyes for a moment before nodding, "Of course, I'm just tired."

"Well then I suppose we'll be splashing just a little bit of water on your face," she said, patting his cheek with her hand twice and offering him a wry smile, "make you look sweatier. Take a blanket and wrap up in it too, and muster up your best fake cough. You'll most likely need it," and with her final commands they both set to work. Roy closed his bedroom door, and Lily opened the front door.

"Lucky you!" she called with a smile that was fake as plastic, but very convincing, "Roy's feeling a lot better, he's coming out. Do you mind sitting outside and talking with him? I think he really just needs some fresh air."

"No," Al answered, "that's fine." he didn't really care all that much to go into the Colonel's home anyway. Like a student who was shocked to see there teacher at the town market, it was hard to recognize that Mustang had a life outside of the office that Alphonse saw him in most of the time. Outside of the military uniform that always adorned his body. Going inside of his home would just make this even weirder. Alphonse felt suddenly sad again. He imagined what Ed would had said to that thought when he told him. _What Al? Does he sleep there? Does he just stop living when we're not around? Don't be silly!_ Then he would have laughed and his bright smile would light up his face and everything would be good for a whole second. God, he wished Ed was here to tell him he was being silly. _Silly Alphonse, I'm right here waiting for you. All you have to do is find me. _And he would find him. He had to.

If only he could just take it all back.

"Alphonse? What do you want?" Roy Mustang stood beside on the porch of his own home now, a cough leaking out of his chest and making Alphonse flinch. Al jumped, he had been so absorbed in his breif thoughts of his brother that he hadn't even noticed the man come out of his house. He felt a little bad now. Making him come out here. He sat down next to Al on the concrete of his stairs and looked out into the bustling streets of Central. Al looked over at the man. He looked tired, even more so than he had the day he had found him in his office late at night. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and dark bags beneath his eyes. He wondered if he had woken him up, or if he had been sleeping at all. His skin shone with a solid sheen of sweat that even now trickled down his nose in a bead of clear moisture. Al thought that maybe he had a fever and it had just broke. He remembered when he used to have fevers a lot as a child. He'd be so cold. And then his brother would smile and say,

_"Don't worry Al, pretty soon you'll be sweating up a storm," _and he would ruffle his hair.

Edward had taken care of him then, he always had, and now what? How did Al repay him? By telling him everything was his fault.

He felt like crying.

"I need to find Edward," Al choked out, stumbling over the words, emotion cluttering his thoughts.

Roy took a moment to observe the young brother. The longing and distress in his voice had shocked him. He was srue that if there was a small boy of flesh and blood before him that Alphonse would be falling apart. Maybe Ed wasn't the only one beating himself up about this, "I told you we'll find him," he felt guilty, terribly so, suddenly, "I'm sure he's fine, just give him a little more time."

"I can't just give him more time!" Al suddenly snapped at him. Roy was taken aback. Al continued in a whisper, "What if he's hurt? What if something happens? This is all my fault and I _need_ to find him."

Roy's nostrils flared with his own small amount of fury that had gathered in his chest when Alphonse's voice had risen, "Alphonse Elric! Does it look like I'm _any_ use to you right now? Yelling at _me_ isn't going to help you find _him!"_

Al hadn't meant to yell at Mustang, he was just so worried, "I'm sorry Roy, I didn't mean to yell at you," Al apologized, "I'm just scared."

"I'll look Al, but there's not much I can do yet, okay?" Roy said, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. A hand that he knew the young boy couldn't feel.

"Okay," Al steeled after a moment, "Okay. I'm sorry." he stood up and held out a hand to the Colonel, who reached his own hand out uuneasily.

Alphonse shook his hand with a nod and walked away.

Oh no, here came the guilt again.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Disclaimer: **_No dice.

_**A/N: **_Author's note!

* * *

_**Invective**_

_**Chapter Six**_

"Thank God," Roy muttered as he entered the house again. Lilia was waiting with a dry towel and a cup of coffee. He thanked her and then the two moved to his couch and sat down quietly. Roy's mind was racing, and he placed his head in his hands with an exasperated sigh.

"Sure you're okay?" Lilia asked again, running a hand across his back. A simple massage of his spine that did in face cause a few of his nerves to ease away. But only a few.

"No, I'm not sure right now," Roy answered, not moving an inch. Her hand kept moving, a constant against his conflicted thoughts, "I"m not sure about anything. I'm not sure what the right thing to do is anymore. Did you hear him?"

Lilia nodded, "Sounded so sad,"

"I just don't know what the right course of action would be, I'm so confused,"

"The right thing to do, is to not tell him where I am," came a sudden voice from the other side of the room. The two adult's heads snapped up quickly with surprise and looked at the boy walking slowly out of the bedroom. He had one of Roy's shirts and a pair of new boxers he had happened to have bought the other day. He had let Lilia take care of the changing part, and he was very glad for her presence at that moment. What if Ed had woken while _he _was changing his clothes. He doubted the fact that he would still have a pulse. But that was beside the point.

Lilia shot up, with a concerned gasp and ran forward to the boy, who was trying his best to walk across the room straight and tall. She placed a firm hand on his shoulder and attempted to steer him back in the direction of the bedroom. Edward, however, stiffened at her touch and moved not an inch with her gentle yet commanding push. She placed a hand on his forehead. His breath was coming in short pants and there was a stained crease in his sweat laden brown, as if it was a difficulty simply to keep upright. He was cooler, and his fever must have broken. His body was still weak, and staving off the ever present infection in his body. He shouldn't be up, it was bad for his recovery. She tried to steer him away again, finding herself presented with a lack of words to say to the boy. The boy, who, with his jaw firmly clenched, stood stock still and resisted her once again. "Honey," she finally mumbled, feeling a little frustrated, "you gotta go back to bed."

Edward looked at her for a moment and, ignoring her command, quickly asked, "Did you do what I asked?"

Lilia was slightly taken aback and angry at his change of subject, and the intensity of his gaze, "Of course,"

"Did you..."

"Read it? No, certainly not. It's not my place." Lilia reassured the boy, "now that that's settled you can go back to bed. Alright?"

"No," Edward refused, "I'm sorry, Lil, I really am. You've been so good to me when you really needn't be. But I've taken up enough of your time and the Colonel's. If you guys will help me get my clothes I'll..."

"You'll what?" Lilia cut him off, her voice sharp and curt.

"No," Roy said with finality, "I already told you that you're not allowed to leave until you're better. You're welcome for as long as you want. There's no need to apologize."

Lilia shook her head, this boy obviously had some sort of guilt problem. She had hardly known him and he had already apologized for more things than almost anyone else in her entire life had. She noticed the casual nickname he had given her and was surprised to think that he had even remembered her name. She thought to her own usage of names, and realized that her sentences toward him were filled with "honey"'s and "sweeties"'s like some toddler. Somehow it felt as if it was right, or like it needed to be said. Maybe she was just getting a little carried away, dropping the formalities immediately and everything. But then again, maybe not.

"Colonel, I have no right to ask this much of you. You must realize that I've caused you far more trouble than I'm worth,"

"Stop it," Lilia frowned, placing her hands on his shoulders. He sounded so mature when he spoke, it was almost unsettling. "Go back to bed and maybe I'll let you apologize some more later."

Edward granted her a small smile and a mirthless chuckle, "Lil, you don't have to be so kind."

"Yes, I do, and if you argue with me I swear I'll kill you,"

Edward seemed to make some sort of a decision in his mind, and with a renewed grimace, retreated back into the bedroom.

"Thank God," Lily sighed. Roy smiled at her exasperated repetition of his previous statement.

Roy frowned, "I don't know what's wrong with him,"

Lily offered him a comforting smile and sat down beside him on the couch, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Maybe I can help. I know I was only supposed to be the doctor, but I feel like I know too much now to..." she trailed off and the end of her sentence, glancing toward the open doorway that Edward had just retreated into, "...and I don't know, I just want to help him."

Roy shook his head and brought it firmly down into his hands with a heavy sigh. Lily kept on, "You could help him Roy, we could, you just have to tell me more. Help me help him," she whispered the last part, waiting for Roy's reaction. When none came, she stood up, suddenly feeling anxious. She just didn't know what she could do.

"I'll tell you what I can," Roy finally mumbled silently into his hands. His charcoal eyes moved upward and caught her own, "but the rest he has to tell you, it's his story to tell."

"Earlier, before, during the bath," Lily answered with a question that had been on her mind for quite some time, "I said that you should find them a family. Then, you said, 'Edward made his choice, he's not a child anymore'. What exactly did you mean by that?"

"You have to understand that I'm not being cruel. I said that Edward made his choice and I meant it. He's not a child anymore and it won't do him any favors if I treat him like one," Roy began, leaning back to let the cushions of the couch hug around his form, "when Edward was very young, eleven years old, well... per say, he accomplished a feat that was beyond his age. Beyond me, actually. It was risky, and to survive either of the alchemical attempts he made that night was roof that this child was a genius. So I came to him, I found him broken but with a determination that I assure you has not faltered... well, lately I've been unsure... but the small boy I met that day made his decision then. From that point on he was an adult."

"Eleven?" Lily whispered, almost feeling out of place for interrupting, but also feeling utterly disgusted, "what did he decide?"

"He decided to join the military," Roy said flatly. She waited for him to continue but he paused and she took the opportunity to speak again.

"How did he even get in? He was eleven." Lily asked, certainly eleven year old's weren't just let into the military ranks without protest.

"First off, he was a genius," Roy pressed again with a small laugh, "he almost got himself killed trying to get in actually. I remember being so shocked. It was a year later and... well, you're aware of the general procedures in accordance to alchemy right?"

"The circle and stuff, it's all kind of equations or something, right?"

"More or less. The process relies strictly on the presence of the circle. In a way, it governs the alchemic energy. In the same manner, I suppose, that without a recipe you cannot finish your final dish. He circles are directions, guidelines for the alchemical energy. So this twelve year old boy comes in to the room, alright? And they offer him a piece of chalk. He says he doesn't need it, and next thing he's clapping his hands together and placing them on the ground and then there's _alchemy._ He's making something. He's performing the alchemical process without what could quite possibly be the most important component," he took a breath and looked toward Lily, but she was waiting patiently, anxiously, for him to continue. Clearly intrigued, so he did, "and that's not even the most shocking art. In another second this little boy has transmuted a spear, and he runs straight up to the Fuhrer and puts the blade right in front of his face and tells them they need to protect him better. Everyone's got a knife or sword or gun aimed at this little boy, and he's a moment away from cutting the Fuhrer's head off. So they pass him."

Lilia gasped, "He threatened the Fuhrer and got into the military?"

"It wasn't exactly a threat. The kid was extremely smart, and he knew he wasn't getting in without doing something to really prove himself. Personally, I think the no circle thing would have been sufficient, but he made that next move and that sealed the deal. He didn't have much to lose, and he knew it would either ruin him or make him. He was right, he proved that he was brave and determined, that he wasn't a child, that he was serious."

Lilia nodded, understanding, "So he's bee in the military since he was twelve?"

"Yes," Roy concluded.

"What happened to his parents?"

"His father left them when they were young, and his mother died when he was nine or ten, something like that, from an illness," Roy explained, he was actually impressed with the way Lilia was not prying. He smiled at her heartbroken expression, how was it that she cared so much already? She was a kind woman, with a huge amount of compassion and a heart that was probably too big for her own good. Sure seemed to luck out on the doctor he got, he thought with only a bit of sarcasm.

"What a poor child," she mumbled.

"You forget that a lot," Roy whispered.

"What?" she sounded concerned.

He was quiet when he answered, "That even though I say he made his choice, that he's not a child anymore, it doesn't change the fact that in actuality he is. You'd be amazed at the amount of stuff he goes through. I'm not sure I'd stay sane, and yet he's so young and still manages to hide it away. He acts the part. You forget."

Lilia put a hand on his shoulder, as if he were the one who needed comforting.

Maybe just a little bit, he was.

For some reason she chose to leave and check on Edward then. He was thankful for her stifling her curiosity that he could see bubbling behind those hazel eyes. She was kind. And she knew that he did not want to talk about it anymore. He didn't want to accidentally say something when it was his place to talk about certain things. Oh, he was screwed. What was he going to do?

* * *

When Alphonse arrived at their dorms he felt very much as if he wanted to cry. The sight of his brother's messy side of the room, covers thrown, papers everywhere, maps and charts on the floor, was suddenly a bit too much for him to handle. He sat down on atop small bed he could not feel and knew it would be another long night. Where was Edward? Where was his brother? Without sleep his mind had decided to choose the night hours to work too hard. He didn't want to think about it right now. When he got his body back the first thing he would do was sleep. He wouldn't think at all. He'd sleep. And dream. And then he'd wake up and eat!  
Al was suddenly somber again. _If_ he even got his body back. There was only one real problem. Where was Edward? Where was his brother?

His brother that probably no longer felt any inclination toward that goal. Why would he anymore? After he was just blamed and scolded by the only person he really cares about? I think not. Al had shook his faith, his determination, he knew that. Al's opinion had always been the final word. He realized that now. Maybe he should have insisted his brother see something through for himself. He must be selfish. He must be horrible. To do that to Edward! And _where was he?_

With a long, deep, exasperated sigh Alphonse lay back against the bed. He accidentally knocked over the bedside table lamp on the way down, but he made no movement to return it to it's original place. Right now he could care less. Right now he just wanted Edward. He just wanted his brother. He wanted to know where he was. He wanted to know what he was doing. He wanted to know if he was _safe, _if he was _okay._ He wanted his brother to come back to him.

He was all he had, and now Al had driven him away.

He had no right to blame Edward for all the things that he blamed him for during that argument. But he'd been angry, he hadn't realized what he had been saying. He didn't mean to. He hadn't wanted to. And now, he'd ruined everything.

"Alphonse Elric?" a voice called out to accompany a knock at his door. Al's head perked up in curiosity. Had Roy found Ed? Was this man here to tell him where his brother was? "I have a letter here for you," he finished, knocking once more, "Mr. Elric?"

"Coming," Alphonse barked out, anxious. He half ran to the doorway that was not even three yards from where he had been laying. Maybe he'd been worrying too much. Edward told him that he did that a lot. Ed had realized he didn't mean to say those things, he'd forgiven Al and surely he was ready to come home. Just another silly little spat. Nothing serious, "Who is it from?" he asked excitedly as he opened the door. The man before him went wide-eyed for a moment before before coughing pointedly into his hand and reestablishing himself.

"Don't know," he answered, "there's not return address."

Alphonse felt worried again. Roy must have just not bothered with the return address, right? Yeah, why would he anyway? Alphonse knew how to get a hold of him. There was obviously no need for one.

The man handed Al the envelope and smiled with a salute. Alphonse quickly thanked him and let him take his leave, returning the gesture. He shut his door with a resounding slam, forgetting himself for a moment. He was just so excited to open the envelope, to read the letter, to hear of his brother. He tore through the outside paper of the envelope that protects it and quickly unfolded the letter. He was so happy. He would be able to see Edward again and...

There were only two, large words written on the piece of paper.

In his brother's messy scrawl.

Al dropped the letter with a gasp. He wanted to cry, he felt like he could cry.

* * *

_**I'M SORRY**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own FMA. I also do not own the way I avoid updating my long-term chapter fictions that I should by procrastinating and writing one shots all of the time. Oh wait, I do own that last part. Oops.

_**A/N:**_ So apparently the end of the last chapter worked well in two ways. For the people who actually realized it was what Edward wrote, it was a part of the story, and they read it, and they were like, "Awe, I can't believe he wrote that. That's so sad." Which is what I like to believe is one reader's reaction. (Hope!) And in another way, some people thought that it was me apologizing for not telling you what Edward said. And in that case... Yes! I inadvertently created a bad ass cliffhanger! Sorry guys, but that wasn't a cliffy, it was what he said, I wasn't sorry then, he was sorry, I'm just sorry now about not being the one that was sorry before. Okay?

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_**Invective**_

_**Chapter Seven**_

Lilia Scott entered the boy's room quietly. If he was asleep than she would not want to wake him. She was just checking up on him. Being a doctor. You know? But maybe that wasn't why she was in his room right now. Maybe it was just what she'd been telling herself. Well, drop the maybe, because it had sounded a little shaky in the first place, hadn't it? Ultimately , it was her curiosity that had brought her to the young man's room. Man, she realized she should think that now, after all, he was a highly esteemed member of the military.

She sat down in the chair beside his bed, that she had placed there herself earlier, and watched the boy – no – the man in front of her silently. He was asleep. He looked so young and peaceful, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to do it. Refer to him as a man. Not when he always looked so innocent and golden. What an inauspicious child, it seemed, lay before her. To lose an arm and a leg and a mother and a father. And now to think he had lost his brother too, the only family that he has left. Now, mind you, she didn't believe that he had, it was probably just a stupid little fight that would be resolved soon.

She hoped.

Oh, she hoped with all her heart.

"You poor little boy," she sighed, dropping the man ordeal entirely. She slowly stroked a gentle hand across his golden locks.

"Just because you think I'm asleep doesn't mean I deserve your pity, nor do I want it."

Lilia jumped with surprise and held a hand to steady her now rapidly beating heart, "Goodness, you scared me."

"Sorry," he still hadn't opened his eyes. If he hadn't just spoken to her she wouldn't have been able to tell he was awake at all.

"Did I tell you that you could start apologizing again?" she teased lightly, Edward cracked one gold eye open at this, looking amused.

"No," he answered, "no you didn't."

"Then don't." she said with what she hoped was a extra sweet smile.

A moment of silence stretched between the two and Lilia found herself shifting around in her seat uncomfortably. She had so many things that she wanted to ask the boy, but she wasn't sure where to begin. But there was one thing that was particularly scratching at the back of her mind. She did not know, however, how making mention of it would be received. She didn't want to upset him anymore than he already was.

"Did you sleep well today?" she decided on asking in the end. It was the day after Alphonse had come asking about him and it was late afternoon. Ed had slept through most of the day, and she had left him undisturbed until this point. Hoping for him to get some well deserved rest without interruption.

A small smile lit up his face and his eyes that he had just closed a moment ago reopened, there was a mischievous sort of glint within them, "Actually," he began, his lips pulling back even further against his teeth and widening his grin, "I sort of, kinda, maybe, left to go to the Central Library most of the day."

"What?" not only was a Lilia angry, she was also sorely confused, "How in the world did you leave without us noticing and then proceed to _stay_ there without us noticing?"

"That's how I left," he said, nodding his head awkwardly toward the open window beside his bed. His lying position made it exceedingly more difficult than it should have been to gesture to it. He chuckled then, "and you tell _me _why no one noticed."

Lilia glared at him for a moment before suddenly laughing and ruffling the boy's hair, "Honey, you're a trouble maker."

* * *

"I'm sorry," Alphonse whispered in quiet disbelief, "I'm sorry? Oh no, brother, _I'm _sorry. I'm _so_ sorry," he fell back against the wall of the hallway in total defeat. Oh no, what had he done? He needed to find Ed.

It had been two days since he had received the apology from his brother and honestly, he was scared, he really was. He could hardly remember a time when he had been quite as frightened as this. And anytime he had, his brother had always been there to comfort him. There was no telling what his brother could have done, what he might do. There was no way to know where he could be by now. He could be on a train going miles and miles from here, he could be in the next dorm over, hiding from the brother whom he assumed hated him. The latter was least likely, however, because Alphonse had interrupted many a neighbor's quiet day in search of Edward. He knew the power and depth of his brother's guilt, and they had never fought for so long. The chasm beneath them was stretching wider and wider, he couldn't even see where his brother was standing on the other side, and it could not be stopped because he _could not find Ed._

He wrote his own letter of apology to Edward. It spoke of his own guilt and his own fault. He wrote about how much he loved his brother, how without him he was nothing and he had no purpose or will. He did not know where to go or what to do. He mused about why it was that such a simple argument had escalated into something so huge, so terrifying. It was considerably longer than the one he had received from his brother. And although it was meant for golden eyes, no eyes met the paper and read the words that were scrawled neatly in even lines. Somehow it felt better knowing that he had made some sort of an attempt to make contact with his brother, to tell him how sorry he really was. And in a sudden burst of gut instinct that he followed without question – because that's what his brother would have done, what Edward had always done, trusted his gut – he turned out onto the street with purposeful strides and made his way to Roy Mustang's home.

Lily answered when he knocked on the door. And he didn't ask for Mustang, he didn't demand to know why Roy was not searching for his brother, or why the Colonel had not even called to ask him how his search was going. Why he had not apologized once for being sick and not being able to assist him. Or why he simply had not given him any ideas to where he thought the older boy could be. He did not insist that Roy drop what he now assumed potentially could have been a facade, wipe the water off of his face and treat Alphonse like the big boy he was. Because he was smart and he could tell when someone wanted him gone and when someone had a secret. He didn't ask why Roy was keeping these things, these secrets, that almost certainly had to do with his brother, when it was obvious that this was ripping Alphonse apart. He simply looked at Lilia and handed her the letter. As he had planned to do, the moment this simple idea had weaseled itself into his brain. He handed the letter to her and then he left, no questions asked, as he watched tears find their way into the very corners of Lilia's eyes. So small he may not have noticed, if he was anyone else.

"Give this to him," he said. He did not say to give it to Roy. He did not say to give it to Edward. But, maybe she knew what he meant, "if you see him."

* * *

_**A/N: **_A shorter chapter, sorry. Just to get me back on track. Lord knows I need to be back on some sort of track. Ya know? Anyway. Please, if you took the time to read this, heed this message that follows. You are my hero. Thank you. I love you. :D

Maya. Out!


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

_**A/N: **_This story is drawing to a conclusion, me thinks. I'm trying, really, as was my original intention when deciding to continue this, to make stories that are just fragments of their lives. This one and Prosopopoeia are going to be that way. They're not going to have some super dramatic climatic ending in which tons of things happen. Things are going to be left hanging. But a small point is going to be addressed, and in the end, it is going to, one way or another, be mostly resolved. Anyway, here's chapter eight!

**

* * *

**

_**Invective**_

_**Chapter Eight**_

Roy woke up the next morning to find Edward washing dishes, and breakfast for two set out on the table. Lilia followed not soon after, rubbing her eyes sleepily and jerking in surprise as she found the boy up and about.

The Doctor had decided to stick around, even though she was hardly needed any longer. (Though with the way that Edward got hurt, she might have been soon enough.) Roy was gracious, saying that she could stay at his place, because he knew the woman had become somewhat attached to the boy that now stood in the kitchen, pulling a small towel over each dish one by one to wipe away the water that hung there. He always seemed to grow on the people that he met, of all ages, it was something that Roy couldn't understand. But at the same time, he very well could.

"Fullmetal?" Roy asked, "What are you doing up?"

Edward's head moved smoothly in his direction, no surprise at seeing the man at all, "I made you two breakfast. A 'thank you' for being so good to me when you needn't be. Equivalency, per say, though I'd hardly say eggs and biscuits will cover my end."

Lilia's eyes narrowed as she sat down at the table, Roy noticed that Lilia had bad reactions to Edward's beliefs. He could see it in her expression. A child shouldn't think this way. A child should want to receive without question. They were selfish traits. Edward was not void of selfishness, but the way he presented himself and his needs as unimportant was quite unnerving, especially for a boy of his age. "Where's your plate?" she questioned needlessly, as it was obviously not there.

"I already ate," he said, and although Roy couldn't tell if he was being honest or not, it seemed to win Lilia over.

He joined her at the table, tucking into his own food and watching from the corner of his eyes as Edward hoisted himself up to sit on the counter, a book in his hand. The red cover matching the color of his usual coat, which had been mysteriously missing from the moment that Roy had found him. He wondered if he might have left it in the street on accident. The title of the book was stitched in heavy black print across the spine, and Roy read ALCHEMICAL MYTHS quite easily. "What are you reading?"

"This is the kind of stuff you have to read sometimes when you're looking for a legend, Mustang." Ed replied simply, glancing up from the pages for only a moment, and then turning to the next and resuming reading. Lilia looked up at him and swallowed her eggs.

"What are you looking for,"

Golden eyes fell upon her for a moment, and then Edward had swept out of the room, leaving an immaculate kitchen in his wake. Lilia looked at Roy in alarm, wondering if she had said something horribly wrong, and he just shook his head in reply. If Edward didn't want to tell her, he certainly didn't have to, and Roy certainly wasn't going to either. He was already placing too much trust in the woman. She was getting under his skin, with her kindness, and the sweetness of her voice. It seemed she obviously didn't get under Elric's quite as much, though he was sure he wasn't unaffected. Lilia's eyes dropped to her plate and she pushed it in toward the middle of the table, placing her silver ware atop her uneaten eggs and looking very pensive and sad all too quickly. Something was obviously on her mind.

"What is it?" Roy asked, setting down his fork as well. Looking with more curiosity than concern at her

"This," she murmured quietly, pulling a small, neatly folded piece of paper out of her pocket, "it's the reply to the letter Ed had me send, I guess,"

"What are you talking about?" Roy inquired, leaning forward in his chair to reach for the paper, which Lilia let him take without much fight, "What letter?"

"Edward had me find a way to get a letter to his brother Alphonse, I wasn't supposed to read it but I did, and all it said was 'I'm sorry.'. I felt really terrible after reading it, but Alphonse came by last night and he gave this to me. He didn't even ask for you or ask about Edward or anything, he just said, 'Give this to him,' and then left," Lilia's frown deepened and her hands shook, "I felt even worse after I read that."

"Al knows that Ed's here?" Roy thought out loud, wondering why if he knew he didn't say anything last night about it, while he slowly unfolded the note. Inside he found Alphonse's neat scrawl, so different from Edward's childish, messy writing, even without real hands to hold the pen. Lilia watched him carefully as he read the rather long letter, tears glistening in her eyes, and when he was done, and he refolded the piece of paper, placing it on the table with the smallest of noises, there was only silence for a long moment. Silence in which Roy reached out and grabbed the letter once more, tucking into the waistband of his pajama pants, and finally, called Edward's name.

"Edward, come in here!" he called out, his voice cracked ever-so-slightly, but Lilia caught it all the same.

"What is it?" he asked, voice quick and tone clipped, sounding entirely irritated, "Don't you like it."

"Oh, honey, the breakfast was fine we –" Lilia started immediately, but Roy cut her off.

"Tell me what you fought about."

"What?"

"Tell me what you fought about," Roy repeated, voice stern and eyes hard, pinning Edward to his spot, "you haven't told me what you fought about yet."

Edward narrowed his golden eyes and grimaced, "Why should I tell you? You fucking bastard,"

"Edward!" Lilia called softly in warning, upon which the boy simply turned his glare on her and she quieted instantly. This wasn't what she had seen in Edward before, this intensity and anger was different. Slightly scary.

"Because I think you need to tell someone," Roy answered, "right now, Ed."

Edward immediately noticed the informality, and he let out a puff of air, flopping over onto the couch with a huge sigh. There was an air of defeat around him, and he hadn't been stubborn for very long at all, when he spoke, it was a sad and apologetic tone, "We were just arguing like normal, about dumb things, you know?" Roy nodded, and Lilia wrinkled her brow in concern, he continued, "Then we started getting into a conversation about who's fault things were, because I said he couldn't just blame everything on me. It wasn't that bad, but then he started listing all these things, and he was so _right_, about _everything_. All of it was my fault, and there were just _so many _of them, and I didn't have anything to say. He knew, then, you know. He knew that it was all my fault that everything happened, and he hates me. He fucking hates me, I just know it," his head was in his hands and his shoulders were shaking and Roy realized with a start that the boy was crying. He was completely unsure of what to do, but Lilia nodded to Edward and gave him a pointed look, which clearly was a command.

Roy got up from his seat at the kitchen table and sat down next to Edward on the couch, placing a hesitant hand on his back. Edward was going to kill him for this. For seeing him like this, and for trying to comfort him. He knew it. "Ed, he doesn't hate you, you should know that."

"Sure he does, bastard. You don't know everything. Anyone would tell me that, just to make me stop crying on their couch," he spit the words out like venom, and Roy flinched in the face of them.

"You think I don't _care?" _Roy asked unbelieving, "You think I don't give a crap about you?"

"Sure I do. The only reason I'm here is to be a rung in your ladder. Both of us know that."

Roy paused for a moment, because in a way, this was very much the truth. He had been only a rung in the ladder that led to the roof, which was in the shape of the word 'Fuhrer', but it wasn't just about that anymore. He cared about him now, like he cared about all his colleagues, his friends, "Don't be stupid Edward, I care about you, you're my friend. And I _know_ that Alphonse doesn't hate you."

"You don't know," Edward spat again, "you're wrong."

Roy grabbed him by his braid and yanked his head up, glaring harshly into the golden eyes that returned his fiery gaze, even though they were rimmed with tears, "Stop being such a stubborn ass," Roy scolded loudly, shoving him back roughly with the hand that was holding onto his hair a moment ago. He pulled the letter that Alphonse had wrote out of the waistband of his pants, pushing it into Edward's chest and growling out an angry, "here."

Ed blinked at the piece of paper, "What is this?"

"It's from Al," Lilia said quietly, from where she had been watching the entire scene unfold, "I guess he's writing you back."

"He knows I'm –" Edward's words trailed off, as he unwrapped the paper and found the familiar letters that made up his brother's elegant handwriting. Roy watched as his eyes scanned the paper, much slower than normal, and he watched as his eyes widened in surprise, and then something akin to horror, before the tears came again. Finally, Edward crumpled the letter up in his fist, shoving it into his pant's pocket and viciously rubbing his gloved left hand over his face. "I'm such a ass hole," he finally half-screamed, fists hitting the couch with malicious intent. "Fuck!" Another wail from his fists, this time more directed, came, Roy was staring, shocked, at the boy who had just punched a hole through his living room wall.

"Sweetie, I think..." Lilia's voice trailed off. She didn't really know what she thought.

Ed slowly removed his hand from the wall, arm quivering, and clapped his hands decisively. The sound of two mismatched hands coming together before him ringing through the air. He placed both of his palms to either side of the wall, and watched as the hole he had created slowly righted itself once more. He kicked weakly at the floor now, anger spent, mostly, and hissed out another frustrated breath.

"Why doesn't he hate me?"

Roy's eyebrows crinkled up in confusion, "You want him to?"

"Yes," Edward said, looking up at Roy, but there were confusion in his eyes as well, "I mean, no, that's not what I want. But it's best for him, isn't it? If he hates me, there's not much that I can do to hurt him." His hand found its way down to his pocket, where he squeezed the fabric between his hands and barred his teeth, "Apparently he doesn't, and now I've hurt him again, like always."

Lilia shook her head, "Don't be so hard on yourselves, you both said things to each other that you regret, didn't you?" It took Edward a moment to realize that she was talking about the argument that had started all of this. It seemed so far away now, and honestly, when he put the entire thing into perspective, that argument was hardly even a factor. He was talking about his whole life, he never did Alphonse any good, and still his brother loved him all the same. It made him want to scream.

"It doesn't matter what he said to me, I deserved all of it. What matters is that I said something to him, and I caused all of this, it's all my fault. Like it usually is,"

"What are you going to do?" Roy asked, finding it useless to argue the point of self-depreciation with the elder Elric brother.

"I don't know."

"...Maybe you should... Apologize," Lilia suggested, not sounding completely convinced that the fault should be placed on Edward.

"Like that will ever make up for what I've done to him," the words fell out of Edward's mouth bitter and sharp like knives.

"Nevertheless," Roy began, straightening up and smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt, "it is clearly what he wants. For the two of you to be together again. And that may just be the only way. It might never make up for it, but at least it can be a beginning,"

Edward looked at the Colonel for a long moment, his golden eyes never leaving the onyx ones of his superior, his friend. Then, he nodded.

"Yeah, a beginning, I guess you're right."

* * *

_**A/N: **_Ahhhhh! It feels so rushed doesn't it! Honestly there's probably only going to be one or two more chapters, after which I will celebrate the fact that I actually finished one of my longer stories, and then after which I will go and hide in a corner with my head down because I don't like the story because of the way I ended it. :( Sorry guys, if you don't like the way this goes! I don't want to disappoint but I feel like I might! Gasp! This is horrid. I just don't have the same sense of inspiration I did in the beginning, you know? I hope the the story hasn't gone too far downhill.

(Or maybe this feeling I have is just the result of me finishing a long story, I've NEVER done that before.)


	9. Chapter 9

_**Disclaimer: **_Edward Elric belongs to me _least_ of all.

_**A/N: **_We've reached the final chapter. Thanks everyone who read! I hope you liked the story! ;)

* * *

Lilia's arms wrapped tight around Edward's body. There was so much she wanted to _ask_ him.

"Oh, sweetie, do you promise me you'll come visit me at the hospital?"

Edward's own arms, one flesh and one prosthetic, came hesitantly around her back to return her sudden embrace. He stumbled back a few steps and laughed quickly with the momentum that was thrown at him. They stood outside the door to Roy's small house, the entrance wide open behind them, with a bemused Roy looking on.

He thought about this for a long moment. She was so kind, to take care of him while he had been here. To act so selflessly when she knew nothing about him, and he provided nothing in return. All he could give her was his gratitude. He was sure they would be friends for a long time, after all, he presumed he happen upon the hospital once in a while. He laughed aloud at this thought, and with a genuine smile, he let her go and held onto her arm with his left hand, answering pleasantly, "I think we'll be seeing each other there quite often."

Although this answer did cause quite a bit of _worry _on Lilia's part, she returned his grin anyway. Patting him on the shoulder, she shook her head, "Just try not to get hurt too bad now, you hear? And no more raging fevers and brotherly fights, or punching holes through walls," she winked at him, "I don't particularly like making house calls."

"Especially considering who's house you had to come to," Edward said, acknowledging Roy with the offhand comment. The man stalked over the threshold of his home, a mock look of offense plastered across his features.

"I'm hurt Edward, I'm sure Lilia loved it here," after which he proceeded to raise his eyebrows suggestively in her direction.

"Whatever, bastard..." Ed said quietly, his countenance became contemplative there on, and his tone grew deeper and more serious, "I want to seriously thank you though, Roy. I don't know where I would be right now if you hadn't found me. You too Lilia. You two helped me a lot, and I'm indebted to you. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask..."

His eyebrows pulled together and he looked past her for a second, while she waved her hand in a wild gesture through the air before her, "You don't need –"

"...actually, you know what," he interrupted her as if he had not even heard her begin speaking, "wait a second,"

His hand dove into the pockets of his red jacket, and he pulled out a small journal and pen. Ripping off the corner of a piece of paper, he moved against the side of the door and used it to lean against as he scribbled something hastily in the black ink. He folded it quickly and grabbed Lilia's hand, placing it in her palm and closing her fingers over it.

"There," he said with finality, placing his hands on his hips, "go to the Central Military Vault and give them that information, then tell them the amount I wrote there," he leaned up and whispered in her ear, "let's not mention how much exactly to Roy, he'll think I'm not responsible with my funding." and he returned her wink.

"See ya shorty," Roy muttered, shoving the boy hard in the back so that he stumbled down the bottom stair.

"Bastard!" the word shot out of Edward's mouth like a reflex, "You'd better shut your mouth!"

"You'd better go find your brother,"

"Yeah, I suppose I should."

And then he was gone, walking down the street and turning around the corner. Lilia unfolded the piece of paper and only half-listened to Roy and his _"How much did he give you?" _that came from behind her. The number on the paper started with an eight and had way too many zeros after it to be what he was paying her for this, surely.

"What a brat!" Roy sighed, running his hands through his tousled bed-head.

"Holy shit," Lilia folded the paper up once more, feeling like it was some secret that she needed to keep safe, "is he serious?"

"I'm afraid so," Roy muttered, rolling his eyes. He looked at her for a few seconds, the paper clutched fast in her hand, her eyes trained to the corner around which the boy had recently vanished, "Do... You want to come inside? I know you might want to get back, but you could stay for dinner."

"Alright," she answered with a shrug, "sounds good to me. I'm terribly hungry."

* * *

Edward frowned as he turned around the corner. He would have to find Alphonse first. He was anxious and nervous about seeing his brother again. Sure, still, even after reading the letter, that Al must hate him. But, he needed to do this, to apologize, because if he didn't they would never be able to move on. And that was what they had decided they would do, keep on moving forward, and never look back. He needed to put this behind them. So that he could fix things, fix all the mistakes that had been made, make his brother _whole_ again.

So when Al wasn't in the dorm, he didn't quite know what to do.

He had spent quite a bit of time outside the doorway, what he figured to be the better part of an hour in fact, preparing himself to enter the room. When he finally had, he found the room entirely in shambles, and Alphonse nowhere to be found.

_Like he's been looking for me under the pillows and the mattresses_, Edward thought, a sad little smile becoming his countenance.

He spent a long time in the room, waiting, and reveling in everything around him, around the room. It had such an air of_ Alphonse_, and he hadn't realized how much he would miss everything about this in a such a short amount of time. He just wanted to see his brother again. So much.

He realized then that couldn't just wait around. What if Alphonse was out there looking for him? What if he was doing something else entirely? Something stupid? What if he got himself hurt? There were millions of possibilities, and not one of them held endings that Edward thought were particularly favorable. In fact, he had to find his brother _right fucking now._

This would be easier if there was a river in Central, because there would be a good sixty-five percent chance that a melancholy Alphonse would be there, watching the current drift lazily by.

With thoughts of his brother and the past fresh in his mind, he flew from the dorm room, slamming the door in his wake. He needed to hurry. Because he had screwed everything over and he didn't have enough _time_ to fix everything, and he wouldn't have enough time to fix everything if he kept screwing over all the little things in between. This was all silly, so very silly, he discovered, thinking back to all of it. All the time he had spent lying cold and alone in the middle of a Central street, the time he had spent feverish and delirious, the time he had spent mending under the care of Lilia and Roy. This time was time he could have been using to help Alphonse get his body back. To comfort him. To help him. To be a brother to him. Instead he had been off gallivanting around and getting himself sick. If something had happened to him... What would Alphonse do?

He knew what it felt like to be all alone.

His bloody stump of a leg had been pouring out his life's liquid, sending fiery jolts of electric pain shooting through his entire body again and again. There was a monster in the corner, trying to reach out with broken, twisted, sprained, warped limbs toward him. It's creator. He'd been nothing then. And there had been no one there for him.

All is one, one is all.

He had been the little tiny speck of an ant that was left behind by the rest of the colony, half crushed under the boot of some passerby who liked to crush those smaller and more ignorant than themselves. Destroyed, but not quite dead yet, body twitching and pulling and dying, and he had been all alone.

He had just wanted his brother back.

That was all he had wanted. All he could think about. _Alphonse. Alphonse. Alphonse._

And it had been all his fault Alphonse was gone.

But he had brought him back. Almost selfishly, banishing him to the despair of a metal prison, barred from all the pleasures of the sensory world. But he would fix that too. He would fix it all. But he had to make up for the time he lost. The time he had made Alphonse face alone. He had to find him. And he had to find him now.

Where else could he possibly be? There was no river in Central, and sadly, that was his only lead. But... What was similar to that? Close to a river? Somewhere where Al would go for comfort, to calm down, because of the sorrow that his older brother had just forced him to endure.

Ah! This was all his fault!

The fountain! The huge fountain in the middle of Central bordering the edge of the military Headquarters!

Edward ran.

He ran until his lungs burst into flames, searing, burning fire. He ran until his heart beat its way out of his chest one painful inch at a time. He ran until he felt as if he were bleeding to death from every pore and orifice, as sweat rolled down his body in swift beads of moisture. He ran until he felt his metal limbs would become too heavy to even keep above the ground. He ran until his flesh, every single ounce of it, felt just as heavy. And then he ran faster.

It was all his fault.

And then he ran harder.

Everything, and it always had been.

And then he ran faster.

But that didn't matter. Because he'd move forward.

He ran and ran and ran.

It was all his fault.

And Edward Ran.

But he would fix it. All of it.

And then there was Alphonse, and he looked upon his younger brother with the most relieved expression to ever grace his golden face. His breath coming in short, panting gasps from his mouth and his hands reaching out and trying to assist him where his words had failed.

Al looked up at him, not rising from where he sat on the edge of the fountain, a single finger twirling patterns that only he could see in the clear blue water. And he felt happier than he every had before.

There were so many things that Edward wanted to say, to apologize for, to explain.

"Hey," Edward said, trying his hardest to catch his breath, he held out his right hand, "Come on."

And Al took it.

"Brother,"

* * *

_**A/N: **_That's how Ed used to apologize to Al when they were little :) he'd just find him at the river and help him up, he wouldn't even say he was sorry. But I always knew that it was understood. And that's actually how I planned on ending this the entire time! It feels so strange to be done with it! This is the first long fic, let alone story, that I've finished in my entire life! I hope you guys reading liked it! And I'd appreciate it if you'd leave a review, telling me so, because I love you guys and I'm really sad that its over now that I'm done being happy about it. :)

_**Invective: **a railing accusation, vituperation. An insulting or abusive word or expression. Vehement or violent denunciation, censure, or reproach. (ptp. of Invehi, "to attack with words", inveigh.)_


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